


The Date

by indigovioletstargazer



Category: Homeland
Genre: Bromance, Central Intelligence Agency, F/M, Friendship/Love, Humor, Love Triangles, M/M, Relationship(s), Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Sexual Humor, Swearing, vague hints of slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 11:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigovioletstargazer/pseuds/indigovioletstargazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Quinn's hopes for dinner with Carrie are dashed by a handsome & enigmatic stranger, with a more chilling date on his mind. As the hunt for Brody intensifies & the real identity of the CIA bomber is exposed, who will find love & who will lose out? This story begins a few months after the events of Homeland S2 E12 finale (The Choice). Please read and comment! THIS STORY IS COMPLETE ON FF.NET</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Legend

**Author's Note:**

> Warning this is a HOMELAND fan fiction - like the television programme throughout this story there is...
> 
> Lots of Homeland (Season 2) SPOILERS.  
> Curse language/SWEARING (similar to the programme).  
> Some memories and threats of assassination and violence (non-graphic/non-explicit).  
> Some sexual references and innuendoes (non-graphic/non-explicit).

Peter Quinn strode purposefully down the corridor. He was going to ask Carrie Mathison out for dinner. It was a long shot and he had no idea what her response might be, but he was feeling optimistic.

He hoped it might cheer her up, since a few months ago, the love of her life, Nicholas Brody, had seemingly blown himself up with a car bomb at Vice President William Walden's Memorial Service at Langley. Although Brody's remains had never been found, it was obvious to Quinn that Brody had been in the car and detonated the bomb, killing himself along with two hundred others.

Peter Quinn still hadn't forgiven himself for disobeying the order from David Estes to eliminate Brody. He often thought about how so many of his colleagues, including Estes, would still be alive if he had simply completed his Black Ops, off-the-books mission to kill Brody, instead of putting Carrie's heart first.

...

Peter Quinn was still a soldier and not officially a CIA Analyst. However, CIA headquarters at Langley was so short-staffed after the car bomb, that it had been the obvious decision for him to stay on a bit longer, as he had proven to be skilled in his role. With David Estes dead, Quinn was now working alongside Carrie under the leadership of Saul Berenson, the new Director of the Counter-terrorism Centre at the CIA. Saul was aware though, that Quinn's real boss, Dar Adal, might call him back to Special Operations at a moment's notice if necessary. There were a lot of other temporary staff like Quinn, from various agencies and countries, who had been drafted in to help out at short notice. Saul was doing his best to cope, with the limited resources and ragamuffin personnel that he had.

...

Peter Quinn stopped in his tracks as he approached Carrie's office. She was stood outside her closed office door with her back pressing against it. A good-looking muscular man with brown hair that he didn't recognise was leaning towards her and running his fingers teasingly through her long blonde hair. He was a few inches taller than Carrie and she was looking up at him and giggling flirtatiously. She started rubbing his outer thigh, running her fingers up and down the seam of his stone coloured chinos. She raised her other hand and tickled the man's stubbly chin before straightening the collar of his blue linen shirt.

"Fuck!" spat Quinn as he spun round and hurried back to his own office.

"Who the fuck is _he_?" Quinn grumbled to himself as he sat back down at his desk and tried to resume writing his report.

...

As the morning wore on, Quinn couldn't stop thinking about seeing Carrie with the mystery man. He tapped his fingers on the desk and wondered who he could ask to find out more about him. He jumped up and ran to the stationary cupboard and grabbed a plastic ruler.

Quinn headed towards Saul's office. He thought that Saul might appreciate a new ruler to replace his old peanut-butter encrusted, wooden one.

Saul's office door was closed. Through the glass, Quinn could see Saul smiling at a man with brown hair. The man's hair glinted with copper and chestnut tones, when he threw his head back in laughter.

Quinn got a glimpse of the man's stubbly profile. "Fuck, it's _him_ again!" He backed away in disbelief and annoyance at the sight of the same man in the blue shirt and chinos, who had been flirting with Carrie outside her office earlier.

"Hey look out!" Carrie sniped as Quinn's reversing rear bumped into her.

Quinn turned to face her. "Sorry," he grunted.

"Hey, what's with the ruler?" Carrie laughed crudely. "Been measuring your dick again?"

She snatched the ruler off him and shoved it down his waistband. "Hmmm, sorry Quinn. Still too small!"

Quinn hastily pulled the ruler out of his trousers and playfully smacked Carrie on the shoulder with it.

"Who's the muscle man in Saul's office?" He growled.

Carrie laughed. "You mean you haven't met Rudy McCoy? He's our resident Super Hero!"

"Met him? No. I've never even heard of him!" Quinn scowled.

Carrie's eyes misted as she sighed nostalgically. "He's Rudy McCoy. He's the CIA Agent that saved my life in Beirut. Rudy McCoy is a legend, Quinn, _a legend_."

…

Quinn had declined Carrie's invitation to introduce them to each other in Saul's office. He scurried back to his computer and looked up Agent Rudy McCoy's files. He saw that Agent McCoy had been temporarily redeployed to CIA headquarters due to the severe staff shortages after Brody's bomb had decimated so many personnel from Langley.

The files showed that Rudy McCoy was normally based in Lebanon. He had worked with Saul and Carrie in Beirut a few months earlier and McCoy had played a key role in running a mission there.

A local asset, Fatima Ali, had provided Carrie with intelligence that her husband, Ali Abbas, a Hezbollah Commander, was due to meet with Abu Nazir on Hamra Street.

Special Ops had managed to kill Ali Abbas and also Al-Razi, who was Abu Nazir's lieutenant, However, the mission on Hamra Street had failed to either capture or assassinate Abu Nazir, when he arrived to meet those men.

Quinn smirked to himself, rather proud that it had mainly been down to the teamwork of himself and Carrie, more recently, that had lead to Abu Nazir being killed at the abandoned Mill.

He browsed further records and found that Rudy McCoy was due to be getting a bravery award soon for repeatedly going above and beyond his duties. One of the testimonials from Saul indicated that McCoy had heroically saved Carrie, when she had been under gunfire from Hezbollah operatives whilst escaping from the house of Fatima and Abbas Ali in Beirut. It was the house where she had recovered the white cloth satchel that miraculously contained the hidden SD card that showed Nicholas Brody's suicide bomber confession video.

Carrie's words ran through Quinn's mind over and over again, taunting him.

_He's our resident Super Hero!_

_Rudy McCoy is a legend._


	2. Photo Date

Peter Quinn was becoming increasingly annoyed at the lingering shadow that had appeared over his shoulder, whilst he sat typing furiously at the laptop on his desk. The unidentified owner of the masculine form was seriously encroaching too close into his private work zone. He turned aggressively and saw a grinning Rudy McCoy. The same man that he had been thinking about, contemptuously, for most of the morning.

"You're Peter Quinn, right?" McCoy grabbed Quinn's cool hand with his own warm one and shook it firmly. "I'm Rudy McCoy. I worked with Carrie and Saul in Beirut. I'm very pleased to finally meet you."

Quinn frowned at McCoy's perfectly defined pectoral muscles that were straining through his blue linen shirt. He snatched his hand back. "Yeah I know who you are. According to Carrie, you didn't just work with her... _you saved her life._ "

Quinn sourly air-quoted the last four words before unconsciously running his hands, comparatively, down his khaki cotton shirt, feeling his own solid torso beneath. It was also a sub-conscious attempt to smooth his psychologically ruffled feathers and to expel the lingering heat that had unexpectedly permeated from McCoy's hand into his own.

McCoy looked away shyly, before he humbly and dismissively shrugged off the life-saving accolade. Then he assertively leant down to Quinn's ear and breathed softly. "You're one of Dar Adal's. A black ops guy, right?"

Quinn jerked away immediately. He stared up at McCoy suspiciously before standing, brusquely, in an attempt to regain his sense of alpha-masculinity and personal space that was being seriously violated. Quinn was already fractionally taller than McCoy, but he emphatically stiffened his spine and shoulders, in an endeavour to look and feel more powerful.

McCoy's eyes twinkled as he smiled warmly and touched Quinn's shoulder gently. "Hey, don't worry, Quinn, relax. I'm one of Dar Adal's too. I'm just here to brief you."

Quinn's eyes widened before he exhaled and slightly relaxed for a nano-second, unconsciously basking in the potent aura of Rudy McCoy. He scratched his head. "What's going on?"

McCoy checked over his shoulder before he pulled something small from the pocket of his chinos and showed it to Quinn. "Recognise this guy?"

Quinn frowned at the passport-sized photograph lying in McCoy's palm. "Yeah of course I do. It's Nicholas Brody. The suicide bomber."

"Look at the date on the back of the photo." McCoy flipped the photograph over and pinched it, raising it closely to Quinn's face. Quinn teased it gently from between McCoy's warm fingers.

"Ummm... Hey, that's the date the car bomb went off at Walden's Memorial Service and they all died. The day Brody died too..." Quinn grimaced and his blue eyes gazed into McCoy's with growing confusion.

"Look at the time on it, Quinn." McCoy inhaled sharply and quickly stroked the small black numbers printed on the back of the photograph, with his index finger.

"Fuck me!" Quinn gasped in shock and inadvertently grabbed the cuff of McCoy's blue linen shirt. Their matching blue eyes locked again. "Was this photo taken _after_ Brody's bomb went off?"

A pale, strained man stared up at them blankly and lonesomely, from the small passport photograph. McCoy nodded solemnly, before jabbing the two-dimensional face. He whispered aggressively. "This fucking Brody guy, he's still alive and out there somewhere."


	3. Other Theories

Rudy McCoy shut the office door and surveyed Peter Quinn seriously with his blue eyes. "In your opinion, do you think there's any possibility that Nicholas Brody was _not_ responsible for the car bomb at Walden's Memorial Service?"

Quinn shrugged and stared at the photograph of Brody, clearly alive and well. "I'm not sure. My gut feel still says that Brody did it. Maybe he got out of the car in time? Brody did it and now he's on the run? That would explain why there's no DNA matches for Brody, amongst all the body parts that have been analysed so far."

McCoy shivered. "Brody might have done it, but we must also consider if someone else was involved? Made it look like Brody? Maybe Brody's an innocent man running scared. He thinks that no one would ever believe him!"

"Who else would have done it though? Apart from Abu Nazir's men? Al-Qaeda?" Quinn scratched his head.

"It probably was Al-Qaeda... although Dar Adal has a few other theories." McCoy leant in to whisper. "Here's a crazy one: Who else has gained a lot from that bomb going off and virtually wiping out the CIA?"

Quinn shrugged and shook his head. "Apart from Al-Qaeda? I've no idea."

McCoy placed his warm hands on Quinn's broad shoulders and firmly pressed the khaki-coloured cotton with his palms.

"Saul Berenson." McCoy stated it simply and seriously, whilst he stared into Quinn's blue eyes.

Quinn backed away sharply, spluttering and laughing. "Saul? You're fucking joking right?"

McCoy shook his head and whispered furtively. "Look how his life has turned around since that car bomb went off? I hear that he's gone from virtually being pensioned off, or even fired... to being the new Director of the Counter-terrorism at the CIA!"

Quinn's eyes were wide as he rubbed his chin. He was struggling to seriously consider Dar Adal's bizarre theory, presented to him so unexpectedly by McCoy.

McCoy smiled. "Apparently Saul's wife, Mira, the love of his life, came back too. That was another major bonus for him after the car bomb. I heard that Saul was a broken man without her!"

Quinn nodded. He knew this part was true from the long shifts that he had spent with Saul a while ago on surveillance. Saul had talked endlessly about Mira.

Quinn attempted, unsuccessfully, to visualise Saul as the killer of two hundred innocent people. " I hear what you're saying McCoy, but talk about taking extreme measures to get your wife back!"

McCoy raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Stranger things have happened."

Quinn whispered. "Do you seriously think Saul could have orchestrated it all? He was at Abu Nazir's burial when it was all kicking-off at Langley!"

McCoy smiled and spoke softly. "The perfect alibi. Anything is possible, although I agree it's unlikely and there must have been others involved to move Brody's car. Unless Brody was working for Saul..."

Quinn glanced at the photograph of Brody again and suddenly gasped. "Now we believe Brody is still alive, do you think Carrie knows, or was involved somehow? You know that her and Brody were together?"

McCoy raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Do _you_ think she knows? How's she been lately, since he supposedly died?"

Quinn mused. "She's been down, but not as grief-stricken as I would have expected if the love of your life had just blown themselves to pieces. It's like she's missing his company, rather than grieving for him."

McCoy frowned and fiddled with a button on the cuff of his blue shirt. "Do you think she loved him?"

Quinn nodded. "Love is pretty much an understatement. The last time I did surveillance on Brody was up at Carrie's family's cabin. They were seriously loved up. For her to have seen his suicide bomber confession video and still love him? I'd say she was beyond serious about him. It was true love. That's why I couldn't pull the trigger..."

"Wow!" McCoy was flabbergasted. "I had no idea that they really loved each other! I thought Carrie had just been getting revenge on him. You know, to get more intelligence out of Brody and to punish him, for what she went through with the ECT and losing her job."

Quinn put his face in his hands and further contemplated the relationship of Carrie and Brody, before speaking soberly and pensively. "To be honest that's been the hardest part for me to understand. Who in their right mind would blow themselves up, if they'd just binned a Stepford wife like Jessica Brody and secured themselves a bright future with a beautiful, independent and intelligent woman like Carrie Mathison?"

Quinn and McCoy simultaneously sighed, wistfully.

"If Carrie loved Brody and believed that he was innocent, could she have helped him escape, logistically? After the bomb went off?" McCoy's mind was racing.

Quinn raised his eyebrows and nodded. "It's a possibility. Carrie says she was unconscious for hours, but the weird thing is there's no records. No record of anyone finding her, or attending to her at Langley. No records of her at the hospital either."

McCoy looked grim. "You've already checked then? You must have had some suspicions about Carrie already?"

Quinn nodded again. "I've always trusted Carrie's judgement on absolutely everything, _apart from Brody_." He frowned. "Carrie was missing for hours after the car bomb went off. I know Saul said that she showed up whilst he was praying and saying the Mourner's Kaddish over all the bodies. I've been really dubious about her missing hours. Her story about being unconscious and undiscovered for hours? It has never really made sense to me."

McCoy frowned at Quinn. "So, would you agree that we need to watch Carrie and Saul pretty closely? Try and see if they're involved somehow? They might not be, but Dar Adal says we need to check it out carefully."

Quinn nodded. "Well it's worth a try. We definitely need to put some feelers out for Brody's whereabouts too, but very discreetly so no alarm bells ring. We can't trust anybody here, right now."

McCoy winked and smiled intently. "We can trust each other."

...

Quinn inhaled sharply and looked away, momentarily disconcerted by the bold declaration of mutual trust, from Rudy McCoy, the man who he had really only just met. The same man that had thwarted his plans earlier, to ask Carrie out to dinner. The same man that he had jealously wished had never showed up at Langley, particularly when Carrie had referred to him as a _Super Hero_ and _a_ _legend_.

McCoy smiled broadly and grasped Quinn's muscular forearm firmly. "So, buddy, who do you want to get close to? Try and find out if they have any dirty little secrets? Carrie or Saul?"

Quinn stepped away from McCoy and laughed. "Well, I'd prefer Carrie, obviously!"

McCoy frowned before looking at Quinn tentatively. "Quinn, are you Carrie's latest boyfriend by any chance? You know a source of comfort after she allegedly lost Brody? I heard that she often has a thing for guys that she works with!"

Quinn sighed and shook his head. "No chance. We're pretty good friends now, but she's still too into Brody, whether or not he's alive!"

Quinn surveyed McCoy's biceps enviously and took the opportunity to ask the question that had been bugging him all morning. "So... McCoy? If she goes for guys that she works with... I'm guessing that you and Carrie got it on in Beirut?"

McCoy rolled his eyes before shaking his head. "Do you know how fragile Carrie was when she came out to Beirut? She was still in a right mess after the ECT. She just slept and cried for most of the time."

Quinn scowled and banged his fist down on the desk. "I can't _believe_ that Estes dragged her away from her family and made her go."

McCoy jumped slightly. "It was Saul who forced Estes hand really, but he didn't have a lot of choice either. The off-book source, Fatima Ali, the Hezbollah leader's wife, would speak with no one but Carrie, about her husband's planned meeting with Abu Nazir. Saul was absolutely desperate. He felt terrible dragging Carrie into it, especially when she didn't even work for the CIA any more!"

Quinn shook his head and tutted. "Poor Carrie."

McCoy sighed and nodded nostalgically. "I know, it was hard for her. I took care of her in Beirut though. I kept her safe. I still really care for her an awful lot, despite her alleged reputation as the man-eater of the CIA!"

Quinn smiled and felt glad that at least somebody had looked out for Carrie, when she had been so frail, yet dumped by the CIA into the middle of Beirut.

He decided to confide in McCoy. "Well I wouldn't know about the man-eater bit, but I like her a hell of a lot too."

McCoy laughed lasciviously. "So, we both genuinely like Carrie, but somehow you and I are practically her only close colleagues, who haven't _yet had the pleasure_... if you know what I mean?"

Quinn frowned. "What do you mean exactly? I've only heard rumours about that nasty business with her and Estes..."

McCoy nodded. "Yeah, I heard Carrie was the reason that he got divorced. His ex-wife and kids never even came to his funeral. Apparently, she was too fearful of running into Carrie there."

Quinn's brows knitted as he remembered Estes' fate, the first person to be hit by the fireball in the bomb blast. As if to counteract the gruesome memories of Estes' last moments, a more amusing thought popped into Quinn's mind. "What about Carrie and Saul? I just can't imagine them together for one minute!"

McCoy chuckled. "After we'd had a few drinks one time, Saul told me that Carrie had propositioned him once! After he threatened to report her for secretly setting up the original surveillance on Brody!"

"No way!" Quinn pretended to gag. "Hopefully Saul was too much of a gentleman to take her up on that offer?"

McCoy nodded. "Saul knew that Carrie was just on one of her crazy freak-outs."

Quinn sighed. "Carrie is an amazing woman. To do the work that she does, whilst coping with her bipolar disorder. She's truly incredible and who cares if she has a reputation as a man-eater? If you ask me, it just makes her more appealing!"

McCoy put his big arm round Quinn's fractionally narrower, but taller frame. "It's just you and me, Quinn, my new buddy. The rejects. We must be far too ugly for Carrie if she's propositioned Saul, but never us!" He laughed and winked. "Perhaps we'll just have to make do with each other?"

Quinn surprised himself by hugging McCoy and chuckling. "Yeah, perhaps you're right. No wait, what about Danny Galvez? Perhaps he can join our lonely hearts club too, if he _ever_ gets out of hospital this time. Stupid idiot is dying on us again!"

McCoy convulsed with laughter and shook his head. "No, I swear Galvez took Carrie home after a New Year's party one year! Have you _seen_ Danny Galvez on the dance-floor?" McCoy attempted an impersonation by grinding his perfect hips raunchily, before crazily breaking out into something resembling the Harlem Shake. "Women can't resist Galvez! Well, some men can't either. I love that guy, he is _a legend!_ "

"A _legend_..." Quinn frowned at hearing the word that had tormented him for hours. "That's what Carrie called you earlier!"

McCoy gasped and his eyes twinkled optimistically. "Wow! She did? Well then, perhaps I better be the one to try to get close and monitor Carrie!"

Quinn sighed dejected, knowing that McCoy was right. He grumbled jealously. "Yeah, okay. Good luck, McCoy. I'll keep my eyes firmly on the beautiful Saul instead."


	4. Great Expectations

Three weeks later Peter Quinn slammed the lid down on Saul's laptop, before locking it back in the drawer where he had found it.

Either Saul was really good at covering his tracks or there was absolutely nothing suspicious to find on him. Quinn had trawled every computer file and paper trail that he could think of at Langley and every square inch of Saul's office had been scoured meticulously today. He had checked Saul's cell phone records too. There was nothing out of the ordinary, except the hourly calls to his home number, most likely to check in on Mira, now that she was back from India.

Quinn wondered where else he could look for evidence of Saul's involvement with the bomb blast. _Saul's home computer, perhaps?_

He knew that he would need to visit the imposing residence of the Berenson's to access it, however it would be tricky to sneak in unnoticed as Mira had rarely left their home since she had returned from India. He wondered how the sociable Mira could stand it, being cooped up all day alone, whilst Saul was out working all hours, as he had always done so throughout their long marriage.

Quinn recalled from Saul's fond tales, that Mira was quite the adventuring globetrotter who did important charitable work overseas, most recently in the slums of Mumbai , running a project that her parents' had set up. Saul had said that Mira despised the banality of the domestic routine at home, cooking and cleaning, interspersed with Yoga. He said that she felt that she was wasting her time when she could be out changing people's' lives and making the world a better place. She had offered to come back because Saul needed her. She had been worried about him, but he was now thriving in his new role as Director of Counter-Terrorism with Carrie at his side. Quinn wouldn't be surprised if Mira got itchy feet and left him again, sometime soon.

Quinn had an idea about orchestrating a group social visit, of some description, to visit Mira. He thought it might give him a chance to snoop around. Mira would probably enjoy some lively company too, other than than the work-obsessed Saul. He decided that the equally jet-setting Rudy McCoy could keep her talking and charm her to distraction.

Later Quinn discussed his thoughts with Rudy McCoy at the urinal.

"I'll see what I can do." McCoy nodded as he zipped up his jeans and winked. "Laters, baby."

Quinn frowned. He considered McCoy's joking adieu and wished that he could convince McCoy to read something other than _Fifty Shades of Grey_.

…

Later that day, Quinn grasped his plastic cup tightly as he strode away from the machine. It had served him up a lukewarm americano, instead of a double espresso. Further down the corridor, he spied Carrie and McCoy briefly giggling about something before she dashed away. He was left looking alone and forlorn.

Quinn patted him on the shoulder, reassuringly, as he passed. He wasn't overly convinced that McCoy was making any serious attempts, or headway, with trying to get close to Carrie. McCoy had hinted that she had some serious barriers up. Apart from some casual flirting and occasional banter, it seemed that Rudy McCoy was not getting any action, or information out of Carrie whatsoever.

Quinn's eyes lit up as he smiled to himself.

_Perhaps we'll have to swap? McCoy-the-alleged-legend can do some surveillance on Saul for a change, whilst I work on Carrie. I might even get that dinner date with her after all!_

...

The following morning, McCoy had worked his magic on Saul or Mira Berenson. His charm was obviously still working, even if Carrie was currently immune to it.

"The Berensons have decided to invite a few friends and work colleagues over for drinks on Saturday night." McCoy proudly announced the result of his persuasive mission, to Carrie and Quinn, whilst they were all in Carrie's office.

"Sounds great!" Quinn smiled at McCoy. "I'd love to go."

"I'm sorry, I can't. I already have plans." Carrie cleared her throat and fidgeted with her ear, before grabbing some papers off her desk.

Quinn observed her carefully. "What are you up to, Carrie? Anything nice?"

"Oh I'm going away for the weekend. Visiting a friend." Carrie's smiled breezily, before biting her lower lip.

McCoy frowned. "That's a shame Carrie. I was hoping to take you out for lunch sometime this weekend.

Carrie blushed and clutched the papers to her chest. "Oh thanks Rudy. That's sweet of you. Perhaps another time?"

Rudy McCoy shrugged. "I hope so. Guess I'll just have to make do and take boring old Quinn out for lunch instead."

Carrie and Quinn both laughed loudly.

"Lucky me!" Quinn rolled his eyes then winked at Carrie.

...

Carrie put the papers back down on her desk. She stood up and draped her arms around both of their shoulders. "I'm pleased you guys are getting on so well. I was worried that Rudy would be bored here, after having such an exciting life, in the hustle and bustle of Beirut!"

McCoy laughed. "Well, to be honest, I was hoping to spend a bit more time with _you_ , Carrie, whilst I'm here. I'm tired of boring old Quinn! All he wants to do is sit in his apartment and read classic novels!"

Quinn nudged McCoy in the ribs with his elbow. "You said that you really enjoyed some of the paragraphs that I read to you! Remember the one from Great Expectations, by Charles Dickens?"

McCoy sighed. "I do remember it being pretty poignant."

Quinn nodded and his eyes flitted to Carrie to see how she reacted. He cleared his throat before quoting passionately.

...

_That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me._

_But, it is the same with any life._

_Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been._

_Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day._

_..._

Carrie stared at him gobsmacked, before tears suddenly welled in her eyes and she touched his hand gently. "That's beautiful, Quinn!"

"Imagine if Brody hadn't detonated that bomb?" He spoke coldly and eyed her carefully. "Imagine striking that memorable day out? How different things would be today!"

Carrie choked, before swiftly regaining her composure. "I'm sure Dickens had his own momentous day in his mind when he wrote that..."

McCoy nodded. "Did you know that Quinn reads Dickens all the time? Much as I enjoy the snippets he shares, I would prefer him to stop reading for a while and play Black Ops two with me!"

Carrie laughed and then frowned. "Reading classic novels? Computer games like Black Ops two? How the hell do you guys have the _time_ for that sort of stuff?"

McCoy and Quinn glanced at each other and shrugged, laughing. They both agreed that Rudy McCoy moving into Peter Quinn's apartment as a lodger last week, was proving to be an entertaining and educational experience for both of them.

Carrie huffed and put her hands on her hips. " _Time_ is the one thing that _I_ certainly do not have right now." She became emphatic. "You know, sometimes I think that I'm the only one who is actually trying to gather any evidence about who was really responsible for that bomb blast. You remember guys, the one that killed so many of our friends and colleagues?"

"We already know it was Brody!" Quinn analysed Carrie carefully, as he quietly tossed the statement up in the air to see how she reacted.

Carrie inhaled quickly before shaking her head vigorously and sniping. "We can't assume that!"

"You must have _some_ _free_ _time_ though Carrie?" McCoy enquired sharply and air-quoted _some free time_. He leant closer. "You have enough _time_ to take a road-trip this weekend?"

He failed to sound casual as he continued. ""Carrie, where does your friend live? What's his or her name?"

"What's this? The Spanish Inquisition?" Carrie snapped at him in return and took a step away.

"Whoa! Sorry. Just trying to be friendly!" McCoy looked at her, wounded.

"Yeah well! I'm just busy okay. It's my first weekend off in months. My free time is very precious and very limited. I'm not completely married to this place or even my surviving colleagues."

"I never thought I'd hear Carrie Mathison say _that_!" Quinn laughed cynically.

"Fuck you Quinn." She growled at him, before flicking a middle finger and stomping out of her own office.

...

Quinn and McCoy looked at each other, stunned, before high-fiving. "She's going to visit Brody!" they gasped simultaneously.

"Sorry, buddy. Looks like we might need to postpone our lunch date." Quinn smiled and patted McCoy's shoulder. "I think we might be too busy trailing Carrie to Brody's hide-out!"

"Yes, this could be fun weekend." McCoy ruffled his hair affectionately. "We'll need plenty of weapons and make sure you leave that damn Dickens book at home. Let's forget about playing Black Ops two. This is the real thing!"

Quinn laughed and rubbed his hands. "I can't wait to see Brody's face when we show up and spoil their little reunion."


	5. The Bench

Peter Quinn squinted up at Carrie as she joined him on the lonely, single wooden bench outside an intact part of the CIA headquarters building.

He had somberly been surveying the other building that had been most damaged by the bomb blast. The black rubble and twisted girders, near the charred trees and scorched grass, had initially matched his dark mood and frazzled nerves. He was more relaxed now and had been enjoying the birdsong and the warmth of the sun, with his eyes closed.

They sat together in silence for a minute, sharing the sunshine, before Carrie spoke sheepishly. "I'm sorry I was so rude and unprofessional to you earlier, Peter."

Quinn tilted his head towards her and half-smiled. "You gave me the finger!"

"I'm just so tired. So tired of working all the time. So tired of seeing all _this_... this destruction!" She sadly swept her hand across the scene of the devastated building.

He frowned. "Shhh... I know. It's okay. I'm sorry if McCoy and I upset you. Teasing you about your road trip this weekend."

Carrie froze momentarily before attempting to change the subject.

"You've been a good friend to me Quinn... since..." She faltered, "since all of _this_ happened."

He reached over and took her hand gently. "I'm still your friend, Carrie."

"I was already exhausted before it happened. I was so tired after chasing Nazir. Now I'm just..." She frowned. "I'm in limbo."

…

Quinn kept hold of her hand and cautiously shifted his body round to face her properly.

"What kind of limbo?"

She diverted her eyes as if seeking a truth to share with him.

"I miss Brody." she whispered tentatively. "I know what you think he did, but I _knew_ him, Quinn. I know Brody wasn't capable of doing something like this."

Quinn appraised her critically. "Sounds to me like you're trying to convince yourself..."

"No!" She snatched her hand away and tears welled in her eyes.

...

"Carrie, whatever image of Sergeant Brody you still see through those rose-tinted glasses of yours, the truth of his actions is here, right in front of us!" He stretched his arms wide to encompass the dreadful scene.

Carrie sobbed softly. "I don't think it was him, Quinn! I just wish someone would believe me and help me find out who really did this!"

"It won't bring Brody back, though, Carrie." Quinn shook his head as he bluntly interjected, to test her response.

"It might! If he's not really dead. What if he ran away because... because he was scared?" Carrie still chose her words carefully, despite her sobs.

Quinn bit his tongue as he thought about the passport photograph, showing Brody alive and well. "Why would he do that?"

Carrie sighed and wiped her eyes. "Because Brody knew he'd be prime suspect number one! He knew Al-Qaeda would release his suicide confession video falsely in relation to this event! This was their successful attack. Not his! They'd held onto that video to blackmail him. Ever since Brody didn't go through with detonating his vest, whilst in the State Department bunker with the Vice President and all the other politicians."

Quinn shrugged unmoved. "He came close enough to detonating it though."

Carrie scowled. "I'm convinced Brody knew that once that video became public, then no one on the face of the earth would ever believe that he didn't set off the car bomb at Walden's Memorial."

"But you really don't think it was him?" Quinn raised his eyebrows earnestly.

She nodded. "I want you to believe in him too and help me to clear his name. Then Brody might come back."

"Why should I do that, Carrie?" Quinn ran his fingers through his short brown hair.

Carrie touched his knee lightly. "Because, right now, you're my best friend and I want Brody to come back."

Quinn gulped before clasping her hand firmly. "If I'm your friend and you want my help to do this, then I deserve the truth! What do you really know, Carrie?"

She swallowed and her lips trembled.

Quinn grasped her hand even tighter. "What do you know about Brody, Carrie?"

"I know he's... I know he's... I just know he's innocent and I'm the only person in the world who can see that." She held onto his hand, as if for dear life.

...

"Carrie, it's a pointless, fruitless exercise! Brody made a suicide video. At some point, Brody had every intention to commit terrible, terrible atrocities." Quinn caressed her fingers gently, to try and ease the pain he knew his words would cause her.

She snatched her hand away, as if scalded and gesticulated wildly, as she hissed. "He'd been brain-washed by Nazir! That wasn't Brody. That was a Zombie who thankfully regained his senses in the nick of time!"

Quinn made a grab for her hand and spoke softly. "Do you really think the public would ever believe that? After seeing that video?"

"It's worth a try. I'm going to find out the truth. I'm the only hope that Brody has." Carrie allowed Quinn to hold her hand, before she collapsed into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

He stroked her hair, then wiped her cheek gently and whispered in her ear. "Why are you so sure that Brody is still alive?"

She didn't answer initially and Quinn waited patiently. The birdsong sounded artificially loud in her ominous silence.

He felt Carrie's heart rate quicken dramatically as she turned to whisper in his ear. "Because Brody wasn't in his car when the bomb went off." Her soft breast compressed against Quinn's firm chest, making his own heart skip a beat.

Quinn froze and didn't say anything. He waited for more, hardly daring to breathe, as she remained pressed so closely against him.

Her voice cracked. "Brody was with me. We were in Saul's office."

"Then what happened?" Quinn whispered so softly and closely that his lips brushed her earlobe. He fought the frantic desire to take it between his teeth.

As if only just becoming aware of her proximity to Quinn, she jerked away and turned directly to face him. Her eyes drifted to the trees as she spoke carefully and seriously. "I was knocked out when the bomb went off and when I woke up Brody was gone. He'd disappeared."

Quinn scrutinised her dismissive shrug after she spoke. "Is that the truth Carrie? Or just half of it?"

She shrugged again and looked towards the trees, as if studying them. "It's the way I remember it!"

"Have you told anyone else?" Quinn reached for Carrie's hand again and she didn't seem to notice.

"No." Carrie unconsciously responded to Quinn's touch by stroking his hand lightly and sighing. "I don't want Brody to be hunted down like an animal. I just need more time..."

She continued to gaze dreamily at the tree-lined horizon.

"What if you're wrong Carrie? What if Brody did it?" Quinn asked her cautiously, gently cupping her cheeks in both of his hands to bring her attention back to him.

Carrie's blue eyes searched softly and deeply into his, almost pleading. "But what if Brody _didn't_ do it? Doesn't that scare you more?"

Quinn shook his head assertively and hoped his cold blue stare pierced the bubble of her fanciful lies and daydreams. "It scares me more if Brody did do it! And it scares me a hell of a lot more now you've told me that he's still out there!"


	6. Transcript

Rudy McCoy scowled up at Peter Quinn as he walked into the office.

"You and Carrie looked cosy out there!" McCoy eyed Quinn distrustfully.

Quinn shivered and touched his own chest briefly at the memory of Carrie's body contact. It was only minutes since she had pressed there, so hard, yet so soft against him. He smiled as he gazed into McCoy's blue eyes. "Jealous?"

McCoy shot a Quinn a look that he didn't really understand, before throwing a piece of paper and a small Dictaphone at him. "Quinn, you've got a message from Dar Adal. Go to that address. Seems like Mike is ready to talk."

"Mike?" Quinn stared at him blankly.

McCoy threw his hands up in mock exasperation. "The guy who made Brody's fake passport and other documents. Dar Adal's team found Brody's photo and other stuff on his Graphics business premises when they raided it a few weeks ago. Mike's been silent, until now."

"How come you never told me any of this?" Quinn laid his palm on McCoy's shoulder.

McCoy patted it affectionately. "You never asked."

…

Later that evening, Quinn and McCoy huddled together in Quinn's car. It was dark and they were both using night vision binoculars to observe Carrie's car that was being loaded up outside her house.

"It'll be the kitchen sink going in next!" whispered McCoy.

Quinn laughed "She certainly doesn't know the meaning of packing light..." He tailed off and accidentally dropped his binoculars. As his hand scrabbled around McCoy's trainers to retrieve them, his heart grew heavy.

"She's not packing for a weekend away, is she?" He felt tears pricking his eyes unexpectedly.

"No. It looks like she might be planning on staying with Brody for a bit longer." McCoy's voice sounded strained. "Oh Carrie, you silly, silly woman."

Quinn swallowed. "Did you definitely fit the tracking device securely to her car?"

"Yes. While you two were snuggling up on the bench this afternoon, I also tapped and tracked her cell phone, so we'll have no problems following her, whenever she sets off to her little rendezvous with Brody." McCoy sounded proud of himself.

"Good, let's just hope she doesn't abandon either the cell phone or the car, en-route. She's smart and she won't hesitate to change her plan if she suspects anyone is following her." Quinn felt desperately anxious at the thought of losing track of Carrie.

McCoy sighed. "Carrie is smart. Too smart for her own good. Her downfall is that she's too trusting sometimes... I don't think she ever suspected Mike would spill the beans with all the details about taking Brody's photograph and making his documents."

Quinn smiled at his memory of a successful afternoon of interrogation. "Well, believe me, Mike was more than ready to talk to me after a few weeks with Dar Adal's other rottweilers."

McCoy inhaled. "Do you really think this _Ellen_ he mentioned, was really Carrie? Ellen who brought Brody to Mike, to have his photograph taken and request his fake documents?"

Quinn nodded. "Without a shadow of a doubt. I showed a picture of Carrie to Mike... and he identified her as Ellen."

"Why did Mike decide to start talking now?" McCoy mused.

Quinn shrugged. "I guess there's only so much water-boarding and other enhanced interrogation techniques that an ordinary man can take."

…

After it seemed that Carrie had finished loading her car for the evening and was not imminently setting off, Quinn and McCoy returned to their apartment to do some packing themselves for the weekend ahead.

An array of weapons covered the rug and McCoy's single bed, as the pair of them sat on it, meticulously and meditatively cleaning and preparing their vast arsenal. McCoy was listening to classical music on the radio, whilst Quinn listened to a Dickens audio-book via the earphones connected to his iPod. From time to time they grinned at each other, both enjoying sharing this preparatory ritual that each normally had to perform alone, prior to a mission such as this.

McCoy suddenly turned the radio off and grabbed Quinn's iPod, disconnecting it from the earphone's socket.

Quinn opened his mouth to complain, but McCoy signalled to him to be quiet.

They looked at each other as their doorbell rang and was accompanied by a loud knock on the door.

"It can only be Saul or Dar Adal, they're the only people who know where we live." Quinn whispered as he headed towards the door, gesturing to McCoy to follow him. "Shut your bedroom door, McCoy, in case it's Saul and he wonders what these weapons are for."

McCoy nodded, he put his Glock handgun in it's holster, before throwing a bed-sheet over the other weapons and obediently shut his door.

…

Saul was welcomed into their small apartment. He looked tired and emotional as he clutched a bright yellow foolscap folder.

"What brings you here, Sir?" Quinn asked politely and seriously.

"I have something to show you," Saul half-smiled as he thrust the folder towards Quinn.

Quinn opened it carefully. It was a transcript. It looked like a telephone conversation. His eyes widened as he read the names.

"Estes and Nazir?" He stared at Saul with confusion.

"Just read it," sighed Saul. "There's a lot more transcripts of telephone calls between these pair, but I thought you might like this one in particular. This conversation took place about ten minutes after Vice President Bill Walden had apparently died of heart attack."

Quinn sat down on the small sofa and McCoy joined him. They held the page together and read the transcript.

...

 **Estes:** _Hello? This is David Estes._

 **Nazir:** _Good news! It is done!_

 **Estes** : _Walden is dead?_

**Nazir:** _Yes. Praise Allah for the actions of our brother, Nicholas!_

**Estes:** _Ah, yes, Praise Allah indeed. I'm pleased Brody has stayed true to you._

**Nazir:** _He has this time, but only to save the life of his blonde whore. I do not believe he did it to glorify Allah, or out of respect for Issa. It is with regret I must inform you that I believe Nicholas no longer supports our cause._

**Estes:** _Then I will give the orders for him to be eliminated, if he no longer serves you._

**Nazir:** _On one hand, that pleases me greatly, but on the other it saddens me, as I had a bigger task for Nicholas._

**Estes:** _A bigger task?_

**Nazir:** _I assume the CIA will hold a Memorial Service for Vice President Walden?_

**Estes:** _If you desire such an event, then I will make it happen._

**Nazir:** _I will need your help at this event._

**Estes:** _My help? Whatever you require, Nazir. I am your loyal servant._

**Nazir:** _At the Memorial there will be hundreds of Walden's followers. His family, his friends, politicians, CIA colleagues...It would please me greatly if these followers of the infidel were to suffer and die._

**Estes:** _How can I help with this?_

**Nazir:** _My team will assist you to put C-4 into a vehicle which can be moved outside the Memorial Service. When you feel the time is right, you can detonate it by remote control._

**Estes:** _A car bomb?_

**Nazir** _**:** _ _Yes. Are you ready to be a Martyr, David?_

**Estes:** _I swore that I would serve you and I will keep my promise._

**Nazir** _**:** _ _No matter what happens to me, you must do this!_

**Estes:** _You have my word._

_..._

Peter Quinn slumped back against the sofa and rested his head. He rolled his eyes upwards and croaked. "Estes. It was fucking Estes?"

Saul nodded. "It certainly looks that way. David Estes was a suicide bomber and Brody was just another innocent victim at Walden's Memorial."

McCoy frowned and tapped the transcript that was now resting on his knee. "Brody was innocent apart from killing the Vice President to start with!"

Quinn leant towards McCoy. "He did it to save Carrie's life!"

McCoy looked incredulous. "Does that make a difference? Is that a good enough reason to kill the Vice President these days?"

Saul smiled "I'd have probably done the same to save Mira, if Nazir had been holding her hostage. The Vice President was as corrupt as they come."

McCoy looked at Saul and Quinn, as if he couldn't believe his ears. "Brody committed a crime. He killed the Vice President of the United States of America. Even if his motive was love for Carrie, rather than terrorism!"

Saul nodded. "I don't disagree with you Rudy, but compared to what Estes has done? Brody has done nothing!"

"Nothing!" McCoy spluttered in disbelief. "Have you lost your mind? Do you think the death of one innocent man is less important than the death of two hundred?"

Quinn spoke quietly as he considered the ethics of murder. "I think a good man who kills a corrupt politician, to save the life of the woman he loves, is less dangerous than a terrorist who kills, purely to see innocent people suffer and die!"

McCoy opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again. He was an assassin, like Quinn. He knew that sometimes there were grey areas.

...

Quinn's mind skipped ahead. "Does Carrie know about Estes?"

Saul shook his head. "Not yet. I can't get hold of her. Although she might be on the road. She said she might set off earlier than planned, to visit a friend out-of-town."

Quinn chewed his gum hard, trying to decide what he should and shouldn't tell Saul. He grabbed his laptop and flipped it open to check the screen.

He gasped. "Damn, Carrie's about forty miles north already!"

Saul stared at the screen. "You're tracking Carrie? Why?"

McCoy sighed, resigned to confessing their plan to Saul. "She's on her way to see Brody. Possibly on her way to join him on the run, judging by the amount of stuff she's packed into her car."

"Brody's alive?" Saul stared at Quinn and McCoy with growing confusion.

McCoy threw him the passport photo that was sat on the coffee table. "Carrie helped Brody escape after the car bomb went off. En-route she took him to get a new passport, new birth certificate, the full works! He has a new identity thanks to her."

Saul glowered darkly at this information. "How come I don't know any of this?"

Quinn and McCoy looked at each other.

"This is Dar Adal's work." Quinn spoke tentatively.

Saul frowned, then visibly relaxed and a broad smile spread across his face. "I might have known that old dog would be a step ahead of me! Honestly that secretive man, I only spoke to him an hour ago! Good work, Quinn, McCoy!"

They smiled in unison.

Saul edged closer to them, so close that his beard almost tickled them. "Anything else I need to know about? You fucking devious bastards!"

Quinn inhaled and shook his head. "You're further ahead than Dar Adal now. This information about Estes is a game-changer!"

"This information about Carrie and Brody is a game-changer for me!" growled Saul.

...

"What do you want us to do next, Sir?" McCoy felt concerned as he enquired. He had a mixed sense of loyalty to both Saul and Dar Adal.

Saul considered carefully. "What was your original plan?"

"Sir, our plan was to capture Brody and bring him back, but obviously we intended to do it forcibly because we thought he was the CIA car bomber." McCoy hoped Saul would approve, even though the plan had been instigated behind his back.

"Well, I think that is an excellent plan. Bringing Brody back here is still a good idea." Saul smiled. "Then him and Carrie can live out their lives in peace!"

"Peace?" McCoy gasped "What about justice for killing Walden? What about his suicide confession video?"

Saul shook his head. "Nobody needs to know about whatever Brody did to Walden. Brody was cornered by Nazir and just did what he had to do, to save Carrie. Like I said before, I'd do the same for Mira... or Carrie for that matter! Wouldn't you both do that for someone you love?"

Quinn and McCoy looked at each other and nodded almost imperceptibly. They both understood perfectly that certain rules were made to be broken, when it involved loved ones.

...

"What about the suicide confession video?" enquired Quinn nervously.

Saul shrugged. "We'll make something up along the lines of Brody being kidnapped and forced to make that video by Al-Qaeda. It was just a fake. I think that's more believable than our All-American-Hero, Congressman Brody being a terrorist!"

"What about Estes? How will the public react when they find out that a CIA Director was the real terrorist!" Quinn strained a laugh.

Saul stared at Quinn long and hard before answering. "Yes, who in their right mind would ever consider, or investigate the possibility of a CIA Director being a terrorist?"

Quinn gulped. That _look_ told him that Saul was aware of Dar Adal's theory, about Saul being a suspect. He wondered how much Dar Adal had told him. He suddenly felt ashamed of his covert investigations into Saul's actions.

Saul smiled, pleased his glare had the desired effect of making Quinn squirm for a while. "The public don't need to know about Estes!"

McCoy coughed. "What?! With all due respect, Sir, that is absurd! Brody reappears with his name miraculously cleared and his suicide video declared a fake! Surely the car bomb needs to be pinned on someone, if you don't intend to name Estes?"

Saul frowned before grinning. "I'm sure you would agree that it would be a PR disaster for the CIA, if a deceased Director was to be named as an Al-Qaeda terrorist!"

McCoy begged, "Surely you need to tell the public something?"

Saul shook his head emphatically. "An unknown, nameless enemy is a powerful tool for the CIA right now! It justifies our budget for a start! A new enemy means a larger budget for the War-On-Terror and I could sure use a bigger budget to fund the rebuilding of Langley at the moment. And to hire some new staff, of course!"

Quinn and McCoy smiled.

"Anyway," Saul moved towards the door, "I'm going. Shouldn't you two be setting off soon? You've got an innocent man to bring home, to start his life with Carrie!"

Quinn and McCoy both frowned, before nodding reluctantly.


	7. Gallóglaigh

McCoy drove whilst Quinn sat in the passenger seat and navigated by following Carrie's route on his laptop. The tracking device that McCoy had attached to her car was working perfectly and they could see that she was heading north on the Interstate Highway and was now approximately seventy miles ahead of them.

"What do you think about Estes being the CIA bomber?" McCoy asked solemnly as he turned the radio off.

Quinn sighed and stared out of the window into the darkness, blinking at the occasional headlights that flickered by. He was still processing Saul's shock revelation.

Finally he answered McCoy, gravely. "I think the way Estes used Brody's SUV, he wanted everyone to assume it was Brody."

McCoy pulled a face. "Why would Estes do that? Hardly the actions of a proud Martyr?"

Quinn shrugged. "He was pissed off that I didn't assassinate Brody. I paid Estes a late night visit and told him that I was the guy that kills bad guys. I said if anything happened to a good guy like Brody then he'd find me back in his room one night."

"The guy that kills bad guys?" McCoy snickered. "Perhaps Dar Adal should make you a badge with that on!"

Quinn ignored him and continued. "I think Estes had a lot of reasons to hate Brody. Obviously, Nazir had told him that Brody no longer supported their _cause_. I also think that Estes had some serious issues about Carrie being with Brody. Maybe he tried to frame Brody, just to spite Carrie?"

"How do you think Estes got involved with Nazir?" McCoy's hand started rummaging across for the tube of salt & vinegar flavoured _Pringles,_ that Quinn was monopolising.

"Perhaps Roya Hammad was the original connection? Maybe she was the honey-trap that lured Estes fatefully to Nazir?" Quinn pulled out a stack of the crisps and started feeding them one by one to McCoy. "I remember hearing a story from Danny Galvez that he saw Roya and Estes in a restaurant together. I wish I'd checked that out, rather than assuming Galvez had too much to drink!"

Always eager to go off on a tangent about religion, women or alcohol, McCoy distractedly considered the latter part of Quinn's statement as he crunched on the crisps. "I don't think Galvez drinks! You know he's a Muslim?"

Quinn snapped the plastic lid back on the _Pringles_. "I know that now! I'd only just met the guy at the time. There can't be many Muslims named Danny Galvez. I assumed that he was a Guatemalan Catholic."

"Do Catholics drink?" McCoy asked in all seriousness.

"Honestly McCoy! What planet did you grow up on? Is the Pope Catholic?" Quinn hit him on the leg with the cardboard tube and the remaining _Pringles_ rattled. "Of course some Catholics drink! Well they certainly did the last time I visited my father's cousins in Ireland. They're Catholic and drink plenty of whisky and Guinness. When my Great Uncle Patrick drinks, he swears every Quinn in the world is descended from Niall Noígíallach, an ancient High King of Ireland!"

"McCoy chuckled. "You're descended from a King, Peter?"

"A King that helped kidnap Saint Patrick in the fifth century no less!" Quinn smirked and bowed.

McCoy was genuinely impressed with Quinn's historical knowledge. "Wow, that's awesome. Your family have blue-blood running through their veins!"

"Not sure about blue. Irish green maybe." Quinn laughed. "Or perhaps black, from too much Guinness."

"Is there any such thing as too much Guinness?" pondered McCoy cheerfully.

Quinn grinned "How about after this weekend, we go to Maguire's bar downtown and find out?"

"Sounds cool. Will you teach me to how do dance an Irish Jig?" McCoy tapped his foot erratically on the accelerator pedal.

Quinn hit him with the _Pringles_ tube on the shoulder. "Only if you teach me how to dance a Lebanese Dabke!"

McCoy laughed. "It'll take more than two of us to dance a proper Dabke. We'll need a whole line of people."

...

The miles rolled by on their long journey north, on the Interstate Highway through the darkness.

"Do you miss Lebanon?" asked Quinn, interested to find out more about his friend.

McCoy swerved. "Yes. It's a beautiful country. I miss the lovely people and the hustle and bustle of Beirut, it's such a vibrant city. I had some really good fun over there."

"Where are you from originally McCoy?"

"I was born in Boston, but I've lived all over the world with my family."

Quinn wasn't sure what to ask next, so he shared some more of his general knowledge. "You McCoys probably have some Irish blood, like us Quinns. The name _McCoy_ comes from the gaelic name _Mac Aodha_ , who was a Celtic pagan god. It means Son of Fire!"

"Son of Fire! Well, that's definitely true, because I'm so fricking _hot_!" McCoy flexed his biceps, before grabbing the steering wheel again and adding more thoughtfully. "My ancestors were Scottish and Irish, or Ulstermen, I think."

"Perhaps they were _Gallóglaigh_?" considered Quinn.

McCoy glanced at him. "Gallowglass? What does that mean?"

"The G _allóglaigh_ were elite mercenary warriors from the Hebrides and other Scottish Isles. They were descendents of inter-marriages between the norse viking settlers in Scotland and the local Gaels. Lots of them moved to Ireland, after losing their lands in the Scottish Wars of Independence. For over four hundred years these young foreign warriors were at the heart of the Irish armies, in many wars against the English."

"Honestly, Quinn... You should be on _Mastermind,_ or _Who wants to be a Millionaire,_ or something. You're a genius!" McCoy was fascinated.

Quinn grinned and accepted the compliment, enjoying having a friend to share his passions and facts with. "Irish history and genealogy is a bit of a hobby of mine. I expect the lovely Miss Mathison has some Irish blood. And probably Brody. That's an Irish surname too."

"So, basically we're _ALL_ Irish, is that what you're saying?" McCoy chortled. "What about Saul? You'll be telling me that he's Irish next?"

Quinn smiled. "No, Berenson is a Jewish name. It means Son of the Bear."

"Bear or bare?" quizzed McCoy.

Quinn pretended to growl. "Definitely bear, as in grizzly."

McCoy laughed. "That doesn't surprise me. Saul's hairy enough to be a bear."

...

McCoy and Quinn drove along in companionable silence for a while. Their conversations had a habit of tangenting off onto random subjects and it kept them both mostly entertained and only irritated on rare occasions. Neither man was particularly used to having a close friend to talk nonsense to, but on the whole they enjoyed each other's company immensely. It gave some light relief from the usual darkness and intensity of the lonely work of killing.

Quinn drifted deep into thought, his mind back on more serious matters.

Eventually he spoke. "I think towards the end, Brody's allegiance to Nazir was purely political. Brody simply hated Walden because of the drone strike that killed Issa. Basically Brody is a good Muslim, and will _never_ be a religious extremist like Nazir was."

McCoy nodded his understanding.

Quinn continued "However, I think with Estes and Nazir, it was about religion as well as politics."

"What do you mean?" asked McCoy

"Do you know that Estes' ex-wife had moved to Palm Beach in Florida and converted to Judaism and married a Jewish man? Estes _desperately_ missed his wife and son, Kenny and hated that Jewish man for stealing them away." Quinn mused, before continuing. "Nazir's and Roya's families were refugees together from Palestine in 1947. Their opinions of Jews was inherited from their parents, whilst Estes' pain was fresher and he somehow ended up on Roya's anti-Semitic, anti-western bandwagon." Quinn paused. "Perhaps that's what Estes and Nazir had in common? I don't know, I'm just guessing. Clutching at straws. Maybe I'm talking crap!"

"Could be all those reasons, or none of them?" McCoy grimaced. "For starters, how do we know for sure that the transcript between Estes and Nazir was even genuine?"

McCoy's thoughts had been on Saul, rather than Estes. "How do we know that Saul hasn't just invented it and typed it up, to take the scent of C-4 explosives and terrorism away from himself. Framing poor, innocent Estes instead of himself?"

"You're such a Conspiracist, McCoy!" Quinn rolled his eyes. "For starters, Saul can't type!"

McCoy laughed.

Quinn became serious. "Sometimes you need to take a leap of faith. Choose who you're going to trust. After weeks of investigating Saul, I found nothing. Nothing whatsoever."

"You never did get on his home computer though?"

"Honestly McCoy, I bet it's just full of photos from Mira's travels in India."

McCoy smirked. "Perhaps the dodgiest thing you'll find on Saul's computer is the occasional visit to a porno site. I wonder what he likes?"

"Stop right there, you're making me feel sick." Quinn playfully punched McCoy on the arm.

"What? Porn makes you feel sick." McCoy was skeptical. He'd recently found a small stash of magazines in the apartment.

"No, the thought of Saul watching porn makes me feel sick." Quinn shuddered. "Honestly McCoy, you weren't in the same room as Saul, when we were eaves-dropping on Carrie and Brody banging in their motel room. Poor Saul, it was excruciating for him and I made it worse by turning up the volume!"

"I bet _you_ enjoyed listening to them banging though." McCoy finally returned the punch on the arm. "Although you'd probably rather have been watching!"

"I'm no _Voyeur_ , McCoy." Quinn scowled. "I only watch what I need to see. I would never intrude into someone else's private moment. I'd rather have my own."

"Says the man whose job it is to watch people! Shortly before killing them." McCoy scoffed. "Anyway, when did you last have a private moment, Quinn?"

Quinn grinned and replied cheerfully. "This morning. Alone, in the shower. In case you were wondering why I was in there a while!"

…

After they had both stopped laughing and generally exchanging insults, regarding their lack of success with Carrie, or any other member of the opposite sex, then they became silent again.

McCoy turned the radio on. Taylor Swift shrilly bleated " _I knew you were trouble when you walked in..._ "

"McCoy, this song is about you!" Quinn chuckled as he began singing.

_Once upon a time, a few mistakes ago, I was in your sights, you got me alone. You found me, you found me, you found me..._

McCoy joined in and they sang along together, before McCoy jabbed Quinn on the arm. "No it's definitely about you!"

_I knew you were trouble when you walked in. So shame on me now. Flew me to places I'd never been. 'Til you put me down, oh..._

"How do you know all the lyrics?" asked Quinn, confused. "I thought you were into Classical Music!"

_Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble..._

McCoy smiled secretively. "There's a lot of stuff you don't know about me yet, Quinn!"

...

After more singing, laughter and good-natured insults, Quinn checked the screen on his laptop. Carrie's vehicle was still heading steadily north, up the Interstate Highway towards the Canadian border and they were making good ground on her.

McCoy deliberated. "You said Saul was the Son of a Bear, right? And I'm the Son of Fire! So who are you the son of, Quinn?"

Quinn's lips curled coldly, no amusement now in his voice or eyes. "I'm just the Son of a Bitch that kills bad guys." He stroked his handgun holster. "And Brody better not forget that, if he even _thinks_ about messing with Carrie's head or heart again."


	8. Lac Selby

It had been an extremely long journey north, mostly on the Interstate 89 with only a handful of stops to quickly refuel, go to the toilet, or to swap seats and take turns driving. The road and terrain had changed drastically since covertly crossing over the border into Canada about forty minutes earlier. Quinn and McCoy's banter had ceased long ago. Tension, relating to the unknown elements of their mission ahead, now permeated their confined space.

"We need a plan quickly." Quinn grimaced as the muddy, leaf-strewn road became little more than a narrow dirt track. It further narrowed to basically a footpath that threatened to end shortly. The dark, looming trees closed claustrophobically and aggressively in the headlights. "We still don't know what to expect!"

He glanced up through the dense foliage and gasped at the sight of a trillion silver and violet stars illuminating the perfect indigo night sky. His view was completely unspoilt as there seemed to be no earthly light pollution nearby.

"I think we can safely assume that the terrain is going to be non-urban." McCoy smiled as he slowed down to a mere crawl. "Probably a densely forested locale, similar to this. Possibly a cabin, or small camp of some description and hopefully Brody and Carrie will be alone."

"So do we capture Brody first, then give him and Carrie the good news afterwards?" Quinn grinned cheerfully as a meteor caught his eye. "Or do we all sit down, around the camp-fire, sharing a flask of cocoa and announce to Brody and Carrie the glad tidings that we bring them?"

McCoy scowled as he fought with the steering wheel, his mind racing along the narrow bumpy track ahead.

Quinn suddenly shivered jealously at the thought of Carrie being reunited with Brody. He gritted his teeth to regain his composure. "Then they can come home to Virginia with us and live happily ever after."

"Perhaps we should have brought some back-up." McCoy suddenly looked pale and strained. "A TAC team."

"You look exhausted, want me to drive, buddy?" Quinn pointed at the flailing steering wheel.

"No, this path surely can't go on for much longer. Just keep tracking Carrie's car, closely." Their car lurched wildly as McCoy hit yet another hidden tree stump.

Quinn grasped his bumping laptop. "She's two miles ahead, near Lac Selby and... Oh, she's just stopped moving!"

McCoy killed the headlights and put on some night vision goggles, although dawn threatened to break through the darkest hour soon. "Switch to her cell phone tracker," he growled.

"Stationary. Same co-ordinates as her vehicle. Near the southern shoreline of the lake." Quinn toggled the screen. "So she's either sat in the car, or she's now on foot and has left her iPhone in the car. Fuck."

"Pull up the higher resolution map of that area and double-check her precise co-ordinates again. Quickly!" ordered McCoy.

Quinn tapped on the keyboard, rapidly accessing the alternative view. "It's a small clearing in the woods, not far from the edge of the lake. There's nothing there, oh hang on...There's possibly one tiny building, maybe a shed? A boathouse?" He zoomed in to maximum. "It's a cabin. She must be parked near that wooden cabin!"

McCoy grinned."Jackpot!"

"Hopefully..." sighed Quinn.

...

McCoy gave up on the narrowing leafy track and stopped the engine. "Time to go on foot." They nodded to each other as they both slipped Glock handguns into their holsters and got out of the car.

McCoy opened the trunk and handed Quinn a small black rucksack containing some field kit and ammunition. He slipped an identical rucksack over his own shoulders. They gazed skywards as they pulled their black balaclavas over their heads. Only their matching blue eyes were left exposed and they glinted like aquamarine topazes in the star-light.

…..

Quinn and McCoy route-marched in eerie silence, now both alien-like, wearing night vision goggles over their black balaclavas. Their black combat boots pressed and squirmed into the damp, rotting leaves. They both frequently checked the small GPS tracker that Quinn was carrying.

"You look great in black." whispered McCoy ridiculously.

"Shut the fuck up!" hissed Quinn, stress rising and he elbowed McCoy sharply. "Now is _not_ the time for you to go all Gok Wan fashionista."

Eventually, in the distance, a wooden cabin came into view. They took up positions behind the enormous trunks of two close pine trees and initially looked through their night-vision goggles. They took them off when they realised how well illuminated the interior of the cabin was. It glowed and flickered spookily, organic and life-like within the darkness of the forest. Distant laughter and the sound of water lapping on a nearby shore filled their ears.

"What do you see, buddy?" McCoy glanced at Quinn who was now staring steadfastly through a powerful black scope retrieved from his rucksack.

"I see a beautiful blonde woman... ah yes, it's definitely Carrie in there..." Quinn gasped suddenly. "And _two_ other people!"

"Two?!" McCoy groaned at this unexpected revelation. "Genders?"

Quinn breathed rapidly "One male. Six foot or more. Scruffy, hairy man. Ah, looks like Brody to me... yes, yes it's fucking Brody, alright."

"The other person?" McCoy clenched his jaw, unnerved by the presence of an intruder on their mission.

"I can't see now." Quinn waited patiently as the illuminated figures shuffled around. "Oh there she is..."

McCoy swallowed and gasped. " _She?!_ "

"Female. Five foot five, maybe less." Quinn stared at the female form that flitted around like a moth, not staying still for a moment. "What the fuck? Who is _she_?"

McCoy smirked through his balaclava. "Brody's new girlfriend, maybe?"

"He's hugging her now." Quinn grimaced, puzzled. "Maybe he found that little pony-tailed pixie in the forest!"

McCoy stifled a giggle. "Is Carrie beating the shit out of her yet?"

Quinn frowned as he spied. "No, she's laughing. They're _all_ hugging now. Now he's kissing both of them... on their foreheads."

"Maybe Carrie brought her? " mused McCoy. He jumped as a pack of wolves suddenly began howling nearby. He glanced around nervously as their chorus stopped abruptly, before resuming intently.

"It's a possibility. We've only been tracking Carrie remotely," breathed Quinn, concentrating. He was professionally oblivious to the chorus of the wolves. "This is our first eyes on, since she was loading everything except the kitchen sink into her car."

"What are we going to do?" McCoy rubbed his forehead, trying to think. "Knock on the door before they start having a threesome?"

"Oh fuck!" Quinn breathed roughly, "I can see the woman's face now. Oh fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"You know her?" McCoy hissed and grabbed the sleeve of Quinn's black jacket.

"It's not a woman, she's just a girl!" Quinn inhaled sharply, the black balaclava clinging to the angular definition of his cheekbones.

McCoy shook Quinn's arm, his blue eyes glinting impatiently.

Quinn puffed hard as he exhaled. "It's Dana Brody. His teenage daughter!"


	9. Black Ops

Ten minutes later, Quinn and McCoy had carefully assessed the immediate surrounding area and the exterior of the wooden cabin itself, particularly making mental notes of the position of the door and two small windows. They whispered fervently, agreeing the final details of their plan, before putting it into action. Brody was no longer a suspect for the bombing at the CIA headquarters and they were only there to bring him home safely, however, they didn't want to spook him into doing something silly, like killing someone, either accidentally or on purpose. They decided the best approach was to restrain Brody and Carrie first, then explain the actual situation shortly afterwards.

Dana squealed theatrically as the wooden door burst open and the formidable, intruding black-clad figures of Quinn and McCoy lunged upon Brody and Carrie simultaneously before they'd even had a chance to acknowledge reality. Black hoods were shoved over their heads and cuffs and shackles were snapped on in seconds. McCoy sat brutally on the pair of them, whilst Quinn cuffed the now hysterical Dana to the chimney pipe of the unlit stove.

"It's OK, Dana." Dana's terrified squawks almost broke Quinn's long-forgotten fatherly heart and he patted her arm awkwardly. "We're here to help your Dad and Carrie."

"Quinn, is that you? You fucking asshole! What the fuck are you doing here?" The hood muffling Carrie's voice, could not hide the mixture of fear and roaring fury spewing forth.

"Get off my fucking daughter, you psychopathic bastards. I'm going to kill you, Peter Quinn!" Brody writhed wildly, his stomach now depressed under the increasing force of McCoy's black combat boot. "Dana, it's OK, sweetheart. Baby, it's OK, it's me they want..."

McCoy spoke firmly. "Calm down Brody! I'm sorry we had to do this, but we didn't want you to misunderstand and jump to conclusions, then do something stupid in the heat of the moment!"

"Just get off my daughter and I'll come with you." Brody slowly stopped wriggling and his breathing was heavy and resigned. "I've had enough of this damn cabin anyway. I may as well be detained indefinitely without trial in your cell, as sat alone in this Canadian one!"

"No!" Carrie yelled as she squirmed under the weight of McCoy's firm buttocks. "Brody is innocent!"

McCoy reached down and pulled Brody's hood off. He was now confident that Brody was tightly restrained. He removed his own black balaclava and indicated for Quinn to do the same.

McCoy had never seen Brody in the flesh before. He was already familiar with the image of the pale, stressed looking face and strained neck, peeking above a round olive-green collar, on the passport photograph retrieved from the Graphics business. The other more animated version that he was acquainted with was the serious, steely-resolved suicide bomber wearing full US military uniform. McCoy had frequently re-watched Brody's grainy, black and white confession video, that now had several million hits on YouTube.

The real Brody that laid before him looked older, gaunt with a matted red beard and unkempt hair No hint of tan, although his cheeks looked slightly weather-beaten, in the style of a Canadian fisherman.

Quinn lurched forwards and heaved Brody across the floor, closer to Dana, who's sobs and shrieks gradually decreased a decibel. She seemed to find some comfort when her Dad could rest his cheek on her shin.

Carrie's hood was finally removed. Her eyes and mouth wobbled out of control as she took in the scene near her. She started to sob uncontrollably. "He's innocent, Quinn! You're making a big fucking mistake!"

Quinn nodded, trying to convey comfort. "We know, that's why we're here..."

McCoy's eyes were scanning the cabin for signs of any weapons. "There is a TAC team surrounding this cabin," he lied. "So nobody do anything stupid, or we'll all be blown to pieces."

Dana started wailing loudly again. Quinn glared at McCoy for frightening her unnecessarily.

…

"You all need to listen carefully, then your restraints will be removed..." Quinn began.

Carrie was snivelling and shaking uncontrollably, as she laid on the floor. Quinn lifted her gently onto the small couch and tried to make her more comfortable which was impossible with the array of cuffs and shackles. "It's OK, Carrie," he breathed. "Trust me."

She shook her head, petrified. Quinn continued, his eyes full of honesty stared intently at Carrie. "Brody is innocent. The real bomber has been found. Brody can come home with you."

From across the room Brody blinked once, but otherwise showed no response or reaction to Quinn's statement. Carrie's face contorted showing her deep confusion, between her slowing sobs.

McCoy joined in."It's true. Brody is a free man. Saul has uncovered the Al-Qaeda operation behind the CIA bombing and there is no indication whatsoever that Brody is involved."

"Just a fucking suicide video..." interjected Dana, before firmly clamping her lips together. She belatedly realised that her brain was not engaged with what was spewing out of her mouth.

"That video is irrelevant. The Director at the CIA, Saul, has declared it a hoax. It is a very old video. Recorded under duress a long time ago when your Dad was..." Quinn swallowed. "Still a hostage, or still recovering from his ordeal."

For the first time, Brody eyes widened and he twisted his head in Quinn's direction.

"Why all this..." choked Carrie. "Why all this brutal force, if you know he's innocent?"

Quinn sighed. "Carrie, you know this isn't brutality. You know what brutality is! We're just the messengers, but Saul needs Brody back home."

"If he's innocent, Brody can go wherever the fuck he likes! Stay here in Canada if he wants to!" barked Carrie

McCoy shook his head. "Not with his fake passport and drivers licence, he can't."

Carrie gulped and looked nervous again.

"Yeah, we know all about that Carrie, or should I say Ellen." Quinn scowled. "We know about your little visit to Mike, en-route to the border after the CIA bombing."

Carrie looked down, mortified.

McCoy smiled smugly. "We know everything, Carrie. We know why Nazir let you go. We know about Walden..."

"Walden?" Dana piped up. "Finn Walden?"

"No, Bill Walden." Quinn looked daggers at McCoy for saying too much. "But Saul has a plan... let's just say that Saul is letting sleeping dogs lie."

"I don't believe any of this!" Carrie shook her head in disbelief.

"You better believe it! Isn't this what you want?" sulked McCoy. "Brody can come home with you. You don't need to run away together. You can come home, be with Brody and carry on with your job."

"You don't need to run away to make _The Choice_ between Brody and work anymore... Carrie, you can have it all," added Quinn, murmuring.

A flicker of a smile approached Carrie's lips, before she frowned. "Who did it?" The thundering freight train of the CIA Analyst within her could not not be suppressed, whatever the situation.

"Abu Nazir organised it all." Quinn purposefully did not mention Estes role, in accordance with Saul's wishes. He suspected that Saul would tell Carrie everything, but he'd leave that remarkable gem for Saul to convey. "Nazir's _minions_ blew themselves up obligingly."

"Did you kill Finn's Dad?" whined Dana, kicking Brody.

Brody inhaled sharply and looked pained.

"No he didn't." Quinn spoke firmly. "Bill Walden had a bad heart."

"In more ways than one," muttered Brody.

...

McCoy was eager to get moving. "So are you guys going to behave yourselves if we take these cuffs off?"

Dana nodded eagerly. "I promise. Mom and Chris just won't believe that Dad is coming home!"

Quinn studied Carrie carefully as a discordant thought was reflected upon her face.

"Dad, you'll have to stay at Carrie's. Uncle Mike is living at ours now." Dana almost burst with excitement.

Quinn observed Brody swallowing painfully. It was obvious that the thought of Mike fucking Jessica in his own bed, still inexplicably jarred the man.

"Here's the plan." McCoy put his hands on his hips in a manner suggesting that he firmly took control in every situation. "Brody, you're in the car with Peter Quinn."

Quinn and Brody glared menacingly at each other.

"Ladies...Carrie, Diana." McCoy bowed gallantly. "You can have the pleasure of riding with me."

"My name is Dana." She stuck her chin out. "And I'm riding with my Dad, not you!"

"OK," he conceded. "You ride with Quinn and your Dad." McCoy couldn't suppress his grin as he teased. "Carrie, looks like we're riding alone, baby doll."

Quinn clenched his fists and scowled again, so hard that his teeth and jaw almost cracked.

Brody was equally provoked and jerked his cuffed hands upwards. One hand still bore the red scar from where Quinn's knife had impaled it, few months earlier. "I am not going anywhere alone in a car with Peter fucking Quinn!"

Dana smirked. "You won't be alone, Dad, I'll be there."

Brody shook his head at Dana, before glowering at McCoy. "My daughter is not, I repeat, NOT going to travel with Peter Quinn either! The man is a lunatic. He might kill us both!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Quinn fumed simultaneously at McCoy and Brody. He threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. "Brody, Dana, you're both travelling with McCoy..."

McCoy huffed and took his alpha-male hands off his hips.

"Carrie..." Quinn's heart somersaulted with a glimmer of something that he didn't recognise. "You're riding home with me!"

Carrie shrugged nonchalantly and nodded, whilst Brody and McCoy both glared thunderously at Quinn.

"Carrie, love, will you be safe with that deranged maniac?" Brody hissed through his yellow teeth and rattled his handcuffs.

"Brody, I work with Quinn everyday. His behaviour is a lot better these days. I've trained him well." She smiled as Quinn unlocked her handcuffs.

Quinn rubbed her slender wrists gently as he loosened the metal away from her pale skin. "I'm sorry, I had to do this to you."

Carrie smiled and glanced into his blue eyes. "I'm OK now, thanks."

McCoy sauntered over to undo Dana's handcuffs. He grinned at her and she gasped at his kind blue eyes and designer stubble. Dana's demeanour visibly altered as she began to calm down after all the drama and excitement. She now unashamedly eyed McCoy and Quinn appreciatively. "Hey, you guys are actually pretty fit, now you're not so scary. For old men I mean." She ran a finger over McCoy's biceps shyly. "Look at their muscles, Dad!"

Brody grimaced and bit his lip, whilst McCoy, Quinn and Carrie all laughed loudly at Dana's rampant teenage hormones.

"All Black-Ops soldiers need to be super- fit!" McCoy chuckled as he informed Dana of his reason for being so ripped.

"Black-Ops, eh?" Brody straightened himself tall, rubbing his wrists as he glared at Peter Quinn and remembered every detail of their previous encounters. "Soldiers! Not real CIA Analysts or proper Interrogators after all?"

Quinn frowned at McCoy, not comfortable with him bandying their real roles around.

"Wow! Black-Ops? Like Chris's video game? Cool!" Dana was awestruck.

McCoy chuckled. "I love that computer game."

"Maybe you could call over sometime to play it?" Dana lowered her lashes before giggling and smiling sweetly. "Uncle Mike won't play it, he says it's too violent."

"Quinn won't play it either." McCoy laughed. "Well Diana, if Uncle Mike gives permission for me to drop by sometime to play video games, then sure, I'd love to!"

She gasped. "Cool! It's Dana, by the way..."

"My permission," interrupted Brody, growling through his matted red beard. "You'll need MY permission to drop by MY house and play games with MY kids!"


End file.
